The Sahara
by Broken-youth
Summary: In 1927 Clarissa Garroway and her father Luke Garroway are car designers. After her father died Clarissa wants to fufil her fathers dying wish. To win the Sahara race. When Clarissa and her team are kidnapped by tribes what will they do? Especially when one of the tribe leaders is in love wth Clarissa and forces her to marry when all that's in her heart is racing across the desert.
1. Chapter 1

This FanFiction is based heavily on the film the Sahara. The film is old and most of you won't have seen it but it's good. This FanFiction is also based in 1927, America.

Clary's POV:

The wind whipped through my hair as the car raced along the track. A corner came up and I turned the wheel quickly. The finish line was up ahead. I could see my father there. The car whizzed past the line and I heard my father cry out triumphantly. When the car came to a stop I leaped out and ran to my father. He caught me in a hug.

"We've done it! It's a new record!" He said. I laughed. My father and I had built the car.

"The gear change was a bit sticky on the last corner," I told him. He looked thoughtful.

"Could be that the car's overheating or that there's something wrong with the gear box. Jordan! Jonathan!" Two of my fathers most trusted men ran up to us.

"Yes Mr Garroway?"

"Check the gear box. Tell me what you find later," the men ran off after giving me a quick hug.

"What did Mr Aldertree say?" I asked as we headed up the hill to the side of the race track. Mr Aldertree was a business manager. He might give us a deal to make and sell cars all over the world.

"Patience Clary. We can't rush him. If he wants to offer us a deal then he will," my father chastised me gently. "Now you need to get back to the house, you have a party to attend," he said. I rolled my eyes and started to walk away. "Wear a dress! You're supposed to be the hostess!" He called. I turned around and gave him a Salute before continuing on my way. I heard his chuckle get tossed around in the wind as I carried on walking.

At the house I changed into my white dress and heels, putting my red hair up in bun on top of my head. I was known to be a bit off a party animal so I slid down the stair banisters, much to everyone's amusement. Once my feet where firmly on the floor I saw Mr Aldertree and my father speaking.

"I want you to compete in the Sahara desert race. You will be up against 5 other competitors. Mercedes, Benz, Alfa Romeo..." He said. I didn't catch all the names before I was pulled into the party by some friends. I saw my father being led away by Jordan and Jonathan.

After a while I got a bit tipsy from the exhilaration of the new record and the many drinks on offer.

"Come on boys, you said," I pulled some of my friends over to the upper bannister. They put their arms around me and helped me lean back over it. I laughed, feeling on top of the world.

In two seconds that all came crashing down when I saw the butler below me, a police man by his side.

"What is it Alec?" I asked. He looked grave. The music was stopped and silence fell.

"Miss Garroway, I'm afraid there's been an accident."


	2. Chapter 2

"Daddy!" Clary cried, running to the side of her father's hospital bed. He was propped up on pillows and covered in bandages. Blood was slowly seeping out of a few and a nurse fussed over him. Clary grabbed his hand in hers. It was clammy and covered in dried blood.

"Clary." He croaked out, brushing away a strand of hair that had stuck to her face. "I don't have much time," he continued. His breaths were rattling in and out of his throat, his breathing wheezy. Tears began to pour down Clary's cheeks. Her father, the man that had been there from the start, was dying. The man that had taught her about cars, caught her when she fell out of trees and made fun of dresses with her was dying. Dying. And there was nothing she could do.

"The car is everything. It's your future." Clary's father spoke, gently caressing her cheek and wiping the tears away at once. "To get the... The deal you must... Do one more trial. The Sahara desert Rally." Pain wrapped around her heart and squeezed it tightly. "Do it for..." Another rattling breath. "Do it for me." With a gurgle his eyes rolled back in his head and blood trickled down his chin.

"No!" Clary screamed and shook his arm. Tears fell onto his still face. Clary collapsed onto her knees, clutching his hand and crying body shattering sobs. Sobs that racked through her, shaking her to her very core. He was gone. He wasn't there. It was just her. After a while the tears stopped but the grief around her heart was ever present. It was still there. And it wasn't going away.

After the funeral Clary headed to the garage, dressed completely in the blackest of black that she could find. Jordan and Jonathan walked in with her.

"I have to go. I have to compete in the Sahara rally," she told them.

"Clare-bear. The Sahara rally was designed by pompous old men to test men and their cars to their limit. It's back breaking." Jonathan said, putting an arm around her.

"What Jon's trying to say is that they have rules. Being a woman they wouldn't even let you drive to the starting line," Jordan said. "Jon and I were thinking that, as I'm here, I should be the one to drive." He concluded. More tears clouded Clary's vision. She blinked them away furiously.

"You worry to much. I'm competing even if I have to go to the ends of the earth and back to do so. It was Daddy's dying wish. His last words. No matter what, I am doing this for him. For his memory. It's what he would've wanted," Clary told them stubbornly, leaning against the car. "And you two can come with me and help me win or not at all!"


	3. Chapter 3

In morocco boats pulled up to the shore. Cars were unloaded and men shouting to each other not to damage them. Three men dressed in white climbed off one boat. One man had red hair and green eyes, another white hair and black and eyes and the third had olive skin and hair and brown eyes.

"Come on Clary," Jonathan said. At the dock they met the other competitors.

"Ah! Mr Garroway's son!" One cried. Clary nodded.

"Yeah, I'm Chris and this is my team."

"The Americans. I'm Sebastian Verlac. I'm the frenchie," he wiggled his eyebrows and Clary rolled her eyes.

"Shall we go and find the hotel?" Jordan asked once the car was unloaded. Clary nodded and climbed into the drivers seat. Jordan and Jonathan got in the car after her. She slowly drove through the crowds. The people were swarming everywhere. Clary drove the car carefully, honking at the occasional person. After a while they got stuck behind a fruit stall. Clary looked around to back up when she heard horses. A dozen or so chestnut and white horses came running from the other direction. The men were dressed in deep blue and black billowing robes. They wore turbans a top their heads and had thick, bristly beards. Most of the horses went around the front and back of the car but one daring one made a jump over the bonnet. Clary watched in amazement as the horse landed safely. The rider looked Clary straight in the eyes, his tanned face set in a glare. His eyes flickered over her face before he spurred his horse on again.

Clary snapped her fingers at one of the officers who was passing.

"Who are they?" She asked, pulling her sunglasses on. Her fake moustache was itching but she ignored it.

"They are the Chambre tribe. Here to buy women." He told them

"Buy women?" Clary asked, shocked.

"Yes, buy women," the officer moved away, getting lost in the crowd.

At the hotel Clary, Jonathan and Jordan were taken to the meeting room. All the other contesters and their teams were there. An officer stood at the front by a big map.

"All of you are 'ere for sa Sahara Rallee." He said with a heavy accent.

"My advice is ta go home. A tribal var is about ta break out 'ere!" He pointed to the borders. "Zis is ta short cut. It vill take 3-4 days. Zere are no petrol dumps and only vone well." He said. "Jou would need a car wit wings ta get acrooss 'ere without za tribal vars catchin' up ta you. Zis is da long route. 7-8 days vith more petrol dumps, more wells and a greater chaance of survival."

The meeting finished soon after that and Clary and her team went to check in.

"Garroway. I believe you have two rooms booked for my team and I," she said. The receptionist looked through the books.

"I'm afraid we have no bookings under the name Garroway." He said.

"But I made reservations," she protested.

"Perhaps your reservations were cancelled when they learnt of you father's accident." Clary turned to find the german competitor.

"Eric von glessing," he said.

"You knew my father?" Clary shook his slightly sweaty hand.

"I did. We raced against each other once," he said and looked down. "My team are in the suite, plenty of room. You must join us there," he grinned. "We don't want you out of the race before it's begun," Clary nodded.

"Thank you."

It was the night before the race. Clary had washed and now wore her dressing gown. Her red hair was loose down her back. She walked out to the balcony and sat on the edge, looking out into the night. It was so warm, the stars so bright.

Jace walked into the courtyard of the hotel where the competitors where staying. Some were guaranteed to go over his land. Jace Herondale, Lord of the Chambre wouldn't allow that. On one of the balconies the doors opened. Jace ducked into the shadows as a woman sat on the side of the balcony. She was beautiful. She had long red hair and piercing green eyes. Jace wondered what she was doing there. She was a woman, she couldn't compete in the race. She looked up at the sky and tears started to trickle down her face. Jace wanted to know why she was crying. behind her a man walked out. He had white hair.

"Clary, you should get some sleep." He said and paused. "Are you all right?" He asked, pulling her into a hug.

"I wish daddy was here," she sobbed. The man soothed her.

"Perhaps we shouldn't race tommorow," he said. The woman- Clary, pulled back and stared at him in disbelief.

"I am racing tomorrow. I said back at home you either come with me or you don't. It's up to you," she said and stormed back inside. Her voice was like an Angels. Jace swung himself onto his horse and rode off.


	4. Chapter 4

The band was playing, the cars lined up, the motorists sitting, ready to drive. The announcer climbed onto the band stand. The music came to a stop.

"Ladiez an gentlemen," he announced. "Ze cars vill go when ze cannon is fired," he said. There was a round of cheering. The sound of horse hooves made everyone look around. A dozen or so of the Chambre men rode past the front of the cars. "Ay, ay, ay!" The announcer tried to run after the but succeeded in firing the cannon instead. Clary pulled off. She quickly gained the lead as the other cars followed. Once they had reached the rocky road that lead to the desert she turned to Jonathan.

"Now?" She shouted above the noise of the cars.

"Now!" He yelled back. Clary pulled her cap off, letting her hair loose in the wind. She ripped her fake moustache off, gladly dropping it over the side of the car.

Behind them the British were in second.

"Good lord!" One cried.

"Is that a woman?" Another asked. All the other competitors exclaimed in surprise at the woman with wild red hair in first. Her hair was getting tossed around in the wind. Clary threw her head back and laughed.

Up on the rocks Jace sat on his horse. He watched Clary drive past. Her hair was whipping around in the wind. Her face was full of glee and she turned around.

"Suck on that!" She yelled and put her foot down. She zoomed off, leaving a dust cloud. Jace's admiration and like of her grew.

Up ahead was a petrol dump. The Italian and French zoomed past. The English stopped for a petrol refill.

"Which way do we go?" Clary asked.

"The long route," Jonathan said.

"The short route will be quicker," Jordan said.

"Yeah but we want her to come out of this race alive Jordan," Jonathan protested.

"It's up to you Clare-bear," Jordan said. "It depends whether you mind getting shot at!" Jonathan groaned and shook his head. Clary zoomed past the petrol dump and onto the short cut.

"There you go!" Jordan shouted. Clary laughed as the started to go over the sand dunes.

The Germans pulled up to the petrol dump.

"We have lost ze Swiss. Za rest are in front of us." The man said.

"Good. Zen no one can zee us take ze short cut," once the car was filled up they drove off on the short cut. The man at the petrol dump shook his head.

"Idiota!" He muttered. The Germans red car disappeared over the distance, rubbing over sand dunes as it did.


	5. Chapter 5

Clary and her team drove until 2:30 in the morning when Clary's eyes where getting heavy and she nearly crashed into the one well.

"That's it. We are stopping for the night," Jonathan said, putting his foot down.

"Alright , but only until dawn," Clary agreed, grabbing a blanket and lying down on the soft sand to the side of the car. She succumbed to sleep quickly.

When she awoke she found Jonathan and Jordan standing by a line of people in colourful, raggedy clothes. They were lying on the floor, completely still. Clary jumped up and ran towards them.

"Are they sleeping?" She asked.

"Dead," Jordan said quietly.

"But they're gypsies. They are protected by the Chambre tribe," Clary protested. Jonathan looked at the well.

"That's the Amancha symbol. The tribal war's started," he swore.

"Let's just get our water and go," Jordan said. They started to walk to the well when Clary gave a cry. On the sand dune was a group of horse men, brandishing guns. They trip jumped in the car and Clary sped off. She could hear the horse hooves and men shouting. Bullets ricochet off the side, some piercing the body work of the car. Clary sped up, ducking low to avoid being hit. The horses galloped past the car as it slowed down due to the sand. Clary started to swear.

"Crap, crap, crap!" She hit the steering wheel blasting the horn which surprised the horses if only for a second. Fear and anger flared up in Clary. The men continued to ride forward until the car was surrounded. Clary stopped with a jolt.

"What do we do?" She asked looking at Jon.

"Surrender, surrender or surrender!" He said and climes out the car. He opened the door for Clary. She got out slowly, backing up against the car. A man on a white horse, superior to the others, rode up in front of her. He leant down, leering.

"Welcome, green eye, to the land of the Chambre." He said, grabbing Clary's top and pulling her onto her horse. She screamed and kicked but his arms formed iron barricades around her. Jonathan and Jordan were tied up and tied to the back of the car. Some of the men began to tow the car with their horses. Clary stopped wriggling, deciding to save her strength for later.

They all rode into the Chambre camp. Tents were littered around. People walking everywhere, the soldiers in the blue and black billowing robes. The man dropped Clary of the side of his horse. A group of women caught her, pulling at her red hair, stroking her pale face. Clary pushed them away, slapping their hands and glaring.

"Take her to my tent," the man commanded. The women pulled her to one of the biggest tents. Inside was decorated with animal skins and fine silks. Clary was pushed gently onto a rug at the edge of the tent. The women crowded around her and Clary slapped their hands away once more. The tent folds opened to admit the man. He had olive skin and dark hair. His beard was rough and bristly. He also had a scar running down the side of his face from the side of his left eye to his mouth.

"Leave us!" He commanded. The women filled out the tent hurriedly, leaving Clary along with him. "I am Emil, a servant of Jace, of the Chambre tribe." He told her proudly. Clary sat in silence, watching him defiantly. He picked up an apple, polishing it on his sleeve before taking a big bite. He then offered it to her. She glared at him. Emil crouched down in front of her, taking another bite. He cupped her face with one of her hands. Clary twisted her face to look away from him. Emil's thumb slipped under her chin and forced her to look at him. Clary glared at him, full of hatred. Her ran his thumb over her lips. On impulse she bit it. He howled in pain and backhanded her across the face, throwing her to the floor. She started to crawl away but her caught her and threw her on the bed.

"Feisty one, aren't you?" He chuckled, undoing the buttons off the uniform the competitors had to wear. It was a beige jumpsuit. She had a white top and shorts on underneath. Emil's hand slipped into the jumpsuit and she screamed. She writhed and kicked until she got her legs free.

Adrenaline pumping through her, she kicked him off her. Clary jumped up, grabbing the paraffin lamp and dropping it onto the animal skins. They caught fire quickly. Clary made a run for it. She got out the tent and turned to see it alight. People were screaming in the darkness. Clary looked around. Fear courses through her veins. She couldn't see Jonathan, Jordan or the car. With a burst of speed Clary ran. She ran over the sand dunes and into the desert. She didn't care that she might not make it. She didn't care that she could die. She had to get out of there.

Jonathan and Jordan were awakened by the screams. A figure was disappearing over a sand dune. they watched and caught a flash of red hair.

"She's getting away!" Jonathan whispered, pointing to Clary. Jordan followed his line of sight.

"At least she's escaping. I'd rather be in this hellish place than her anyday!" Screams and shouting echoed in their ears as people rushed around, trying to put out the fire that had once been a tent. Jonathan had an inkling that Clary had been involved.

Clary ran until she couldn't go any further. She started to walk, the sky gradually getting lighter. The sun rise was beautiful but with it came another level of heat. The sun bore down on Clary. She was exhausted. All she could think was to keep walking. Her strength started to leave her. She fell down the next sand dune and stayed still for a minute before climbing back up. She carried on walking. In the distance she could see some sort of mirage. It was rippling in the heat. Clary paused, wiping her forehead free of sweat. It was all to much and the last of her strength evaporated. Clary wobbled and then collapsed on the sand. This time, she didn't get up.


	6. Chapter 6

The horse came to a stop near the body of the girl with fiery red hair. Jace looked her over. Her chest was rising and falling, shallowly but still. She was alive. Relief flooded through Jace, she was alive. Amazement took over a second later. How could a person this small do so much damage to his camp. Besides her was a scorpion nest. One scuttled over to her and Jace's horse stomped on it. The girls eyes flew open and she rolled out the way, getting into a crouch. She looked up at Jace and her emerald eyes were crossed by confusion. She looked at the other men and hatred filled her face. Jace wondered what his tribe had done to be hated so much. He gestured to one of the soldiers. He grabbed the girl and hauled him onto her horse.

"Take her to my tent," he told the soldier. He was stopped by Emil.

"My lord, the girl is mine," he said stubbornly.

"You forget uncle, everything in this world that is yours has been given to you by me," Jace retorted. Emil opened his mouth to reply when they were interrupted by a flash of red bolting past them. Jace turned to see the girl full on sprinting away. She stumbled but got up again, carrying on running. Emil's horse raced past and he grabbed her, pulling her onto his horse. He rode back. The girl was kicking and screaming. Jace remembered her name as Clary.

"You cannot control her uncle. Last time she burnt your tent," Jace smirked. Emil's hands went around the girls neck.

"Next time I will cut her throat!" He said. His grasp grew tighter and the girl grabbed at his hands. Her face was turning red. After a second he let her go.

"Kill me then! Do it! I'd rather die then spend my life as a slave to you lot!" She glared at Jace and spat in his face. The soldiers gasped. Whilst a normal person wouldn't look Jace directly in the eyes she had glared. Glared and spat. Jace wiped the spit away and raised his hand to hit her. She glared defiantly at him.

"Do it! Or are you too scared to hit a woman?" She taunted. Jace narrowed his eyes. A resounding crack rang out. Jace expected her to cry or to at least beg for her life as the soldiers pointed their guns at her. Instead she laughed. "Glad to see that I wasn't captured by wimps," she said and fell silent.

Jace studied her for a moment. She was beautiful. Her emerald eyes showed no fear. They showed strength and leadership. Jace but his lip. Emil handed her off to a soldier.

"Take her to my tent!" He commanded. The soldier rode off before Jace could stop him. He sighed.

"Now we ride. We will ride and beat the Amancha!" He said loudly. There was a cheer and Jace led the horses on.

"Lord Valentine!" Jacob, the German competitor, cried upon seeing the Amancha tribe leader. He pulled the car to a stop. The other car was already there.

"I said to bring me a war car! Not this normal one!" Valentine cried. Jacob got out the car.

"We can change that!" He said and pulled out some car armour and a machine gun. His men fitted it to the car and Valentine grinned.

"Now! Now we shall beat the Chambre!" He cried and his soldiers, dressed in white, cheered.

One of the men started to shout and they turned to find men on horses riding towards them in blue and black robes. Jacob and his men hid behind the car as they all started to shoot. Valentine climbed into the car and started up the machine gun. Men and horses started to fall. They each hit the sand with s resounding thud. When half the troops were dead the leader, Jace Herondale, started to shout.

"Pull back! Pull back!" He yelled, his horse turning around. The troops fled, Valentine still shooting after them. When they were gone he started to laugh. A horrible, cruel laugh. The other soldiers started to cheer. Jacob and his men stood and started to cheer, half heartedly. They only cheered so that Valentine would not accuse them off something. It was enough for the moment it seemed.


	7. Chapter 7

The tent opened and an old man in robes walked in. Clary eyed him up. She could over power him easily.

"Who are you?" She asked.

"My name is Hodge Starkweather. I am Emil's personal... Valet," he said.

"Your English?" Clary asked in shock.

"I am a slave. Freely I admit but a slave nevertheless. Let me untie you," he undid the ropes at Clary's wrists and set a tray down besides her. Clary looked at it.

"It's not poisoned. There's no... aphrodisiac if you will." He said. Clary pulled her knees up and rested her chi on them.

"I'm not hungry,"

"Child, I am trying to help you," Hodge said.

"You can help me by getting me out of here," she muttered. Hodge shook his head.

"I'm afraid I can't do that child... When my master returns it may be better let him get on with his urges. To be impatient for his touch even,"

"You mean I should let him-"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. Better spending more time alive because of passion. You do want to keep that pretty head of yours on your shoulders don't you?" Clary sighed.

"I suppose so," she said. Then she could escape and try to get back in the race. She just had to find Jonathan and Jordan and then they could leave.

This place was so different form home. Back there no one would get away with kidnapping or rape. Clary missed home. She missed the friendliness of the people. She missed not having to worry about her life. She missed the freedom. The tent opened and Emil walked in. Hodge bowed his head respectively and left. Emil pounced on Clary as she watched the older man leave, silently begging him with her eyes. Clary screamed, thrashing and trying to get away.

Jace walked back to his tent. It was empty. Clary wasn't there. Someone began to scream and Jace swore. He headed to his uncles tent, pushing away the cloth that concealed the bed to find Emil with his hands on Clay. One hand was clutching her breasts. The other was edging under the jumpsuit.

"Uncle! A word!" Jace snapped. Reluctantly Emil got up and followed Jace out the tent.

"What is it?" Emil asked.

"I claimed the girl!" Jace said.

"Under the law she is mine. I found her!" Emil argued.

"I am the law!" Jace bellowed at him.

"My lord, I simply meant that I have claim to her. You do not," Emil changed his words in order to not anger his nephew. "Oh! She makes the blood warm! She takes your fancy. Final we have found a sweet to your taste but I still have claim to her," Emile taunted, finally having one over Jace.

"Not if I take her as a bride!" Jace snapped. Emil paled.

"My lord! She is a green eye! You cannot marry her! She has bewitched her. I beg you. Take her as a gift from me but do not take her as a bride!" Emil begged. Jace shook his head. Emil turned and stormed back into the tent. Jace followed. When he entered he was surprised again. Clary was holding a knife, pointing it at Emil.

"What makes you think I would care if I died?" Emil smirked. Clary smirked back.

"I do not care to kill you. I will let some one else have that pleasure." With that she turned the knife on herself. She pressed the point against the top of her breasts, above her heart. Jace's breathing quickened.

"What are you doing?" He snapped. Clary glared at him.

"I'm getting out of here one way or another. I don't care if I die. I won't have to deal with you lot anymore," Jace took a step forward and Cary pressed the knife down. Blood started to blossom on her skin. It trickled down, staining her white under shirt.

"Put the knife down. You are to come to my tent. You shall not remain here."Jace said as though he were speaking to a frightened animal. Doubt crossed her face.

"And how is that any better?" She asked.

"Because I will not try anything. I promise," Jace said. Clary grabbed her bag, dropping the knife and stalking out the tent. On the way past she slammed her shoulder into Jace. He stumbled and Emil caught him.

"She is a demon, that one," he muttered. Jace glared at him, walking out after Clary.


End file.
